First Impressions
by Rabble Rouser
Summary: Yeoman Rand and Captain Kirk meet.


**Story Notes:**

Disclaimer: (c) 2007 Rabble Rouser/Harmony_bites. All rights reserved. This work may not be archived, reproduced, or distributed in any format without prior written permission from the author. This is an amateur nonprofit work, and is not intended to infringe on copyrights held by Paramount or any other lawful holder.

Paramount controls the known Star Trek Universe. I don't even control myself or else I wouldn't be writing this stuff. I want to thank Kathy Dailey for touching this up for me and reassuring me I wasn't being obnoxious in writing yet another Rand story.

Written as _**Rabble Rouser**_.

* * *

"Yeoman Janice Rand reporting for duty, sir."

Kirk looked up from his desk and had to repress a groan. What had Command been thinking of when they approved these new uniforms? He found those miniskirts distracting, at the very least, and thought they undermined a professional demeanor. Gary, of course, had claimed to be looking forward to them. The basketweave hairdo didn't help. He thought it was appalling. In his experience, people who spent a lot of time arranging their hair usually didn't have enough brains left over to fill a teacup.

"I'm your new Yeoman?" Her voice rose uncertainly.

"Uh, yes, Miss Rand." He wasn't usually so flustered, but he had only found out about this particular glitch right after Rand boarded four days ago. He had specifically requested Terrence Santos for his yeoman. A captain's yeoman was among the few with access to his quarters and, considering their other duties, he wasn't comfortable having some woman — _girl_, he amended, looking at her baby face — fussing over him. "Actually, I'm afraid there's been some mistake. I was expecting a Yeoman Santos."

"There's no mistake, sir. Santos left Starbase Six two weeks ago with the Constellation. In fact, my orders say I was specifically requested." She handed over a disk. Kirk found her expression cowlike. _All she needs is to be chewing cud—or more likely bubble gum_.

Kirk inserted the disk into the computer. When he saw the authorization at the bottom, he had to suppress simultaneous urges to laugh and to hit something. Gary Mitchell had just played his final prank on him. He'd had to rebuke Gary several times for public displays of affection toward Yeoman Smith on the bridge. Gary had not taken it well when Kirk had told him he'd put in to have Smith transferred. And after he'd informed Smith of his decision, she had, if anything, become worse, even as he took to pointedly calling her Jones—a warning that was perhaps too subtle for her.

A blonde, blue-eyed distraction—not unlike that "little blonde lab technician"—would be Gary's idea of revenge. Except that Carol was brainy. Gary had seriously misread him if he thought Rand was his type, no matter how well she filled out that new uniform. Besides, he had no intention of so much as touching anyone under his command. He had seen what kind of havoc to the morale and discipline of a ship that caused. And the more unequal the ranks involved, the more it smacked to him of exploitation. Or maybe Gary had intended to have a shot at her himself?

"Sit down, Yeoman." He didn't need this right now. New first officer, new chief medical officer, and, he thought grimly, a not-new face as his records officer. He hadn't been able to bring himself to transfer Finney off the ship that had been his home under Pike for five years. Kirk felt responsible for the bitterness and resentment that radiated off the man and decided he had to find a way to repair things between them before he lobbed Finney off on some other captain. He owed an old friend that much—even if Finney no longer returned that loyalty. He didn't relish having to put in a request for yet another yeoman, although headquarters would understand that there was a necessary shakedown period in a new command.

Kirk still wasn't sure he had the right combination in his bridge crew yet. After Gary's death, he had insisted on appointing Spock first officer over Command's objections. They had claimed their resistance was because Spock had never held an independent command, but Kirk thought it had as much to do with Spock's Vulcan heritage. Well, he had misjudged Spock at first too. But the science specialists on the ship were fiercely loyal to their supposedly cold superior officer. Kirk thought Spock had proven himself defter at handling humans than most gave him credit for. Spock's reserve and cool rationality would provide a good balance to his own more intuitive and personal command style. After Gary, he felt he needed that in a first. Spock might never become the friend Gary was, but, he thought painfully, that might be for the best.

Uhura, he thought, was a consummate professional, and Sulu seemed to be slipping naturally into his new role as helmsman. It still hurt to look over at the navigation station and not see Gary there, though. He wasn't sure Bailey was the right person in that seat, but sometimes there wasn't any alternative but to throw someone into a job and see if they'd cut it. He decided he owed Rand the same.

"Well, no doubt this is some genius at Headquarters' idea of a joke."

"No doubt," Rand retorted.

Kirk winced inwardly at his clumsiness. At least she seemed to have some bite. And she hadn't giggled yet. "Well I'm sure we'll work things out. Have you settled in yet?"

"Yes sir, I'm here to work."

He had found Smith more trouble than she was worth in every way, and thought he was better off taking care of himself for the most part. Although god knew he needed help sorting through the mess that had piled up on his desk . . . Kirk shoved a pile of disks towards Rand. He had been poring through the reports last night and he had the frustrating feeling that something was off. He realized he was too damn tired after the last couple of missions to tease it out now. Maybe a fresh mind? "See if you can organize this somehow. I'll be in Sickbay with Dr. McCoy if you need anything—quarterly physical." Kirk tried to soften his earlier brusqueness with a smile. He punched in the access code on his computer for Rand and then turned to leave for Sickbay. At least Bones would be happy that he had found time to keep the appointment. Even being poked and prodded and pricked was better than putting up with the man's incessant nagging.

v v v

Rand was used to being underestimated. The fact that she looked several years younger than her true age didn't help. And she wasn't going to correct anyone about that; she was embarrassed enough that after seven years in Starfleet she was still at Yeoman rank. Of course she was no longer Janice Rand, Yeoman Third Class—she was the captain's yeoman on the fleet flagship working directly under someone who, everyone told her, was a rising star. But of course she was a mistake—"a joke." When she had handed Kirk the disk containing her orders, she had found it harder than usual to force her face into the particular expressionlessness that was her sanctuary at times like this.

She hadn't cared for the new uniforms. Like most women looking to make a career in Starfleet, she thought of them as a slap in the face, a not so subtle way of putting the female crew in its place. But then the Federation and Starfleet had regressed in some ways with the entry of members from more traditional cultures and frontier worlds. Hard as it was to get used to the idea, this was now a Federation ship—not a "United Earth" ship, although the habit of calling it that lingered. Her hairdo seemed an appropriate counterpoint. She had felt her face burning at Kirk's look when he had taken in her appearance, but she resolved not to change a thing. It was good camouflage if nothing else. She was getting a little tired of trying for anything more. No one seemed to notice anything else besides her appearance no matter what she did.

Rand had hoped this posting might be different. She had never served on a starship before, and she had been proud and excited at the prospect of serving on the Enterprise. Lieutenant Uhura had noticed her standing around waiting to be beamed up on the starbase and had started a conversation. When she found out that Rand was to be the captain's new yeoman, she'd helped her settle in and had given her a tour of the ship. Uhura had glanced at her with sympathy when Rand told her that Brysos of the Starfarer had been her last captain. He had a deserved reputation for harshness, even brutality—although Rand had preferred him to her previous commander, who had an interesting interpretation of "rank hath its privileges." Brysos was a screamer, and even after weeks on the starbase waiting for the Enterprise she'd had nightmares about his tirades. Still, she preferred curses to furtive gropes. Uhura had gently reassured her that Kirk was different and really cared about his crew. Well, maybe he did, but he made it clear enough he didn't care for her.

Kirk, she thought, didn't have it in him to understand her. Everything had come effortlessly to him. He had looks good enough to make the heart of any susceptible female within visual range skip a beat. She certainly wasn't immune; that had probably contributed to her own awkwardness just now. Kirk had entered the academy at a ridiculously young age, had graduated at the top of his class, and was now the youngest starship captain in the history of Starfleet. She was mortified when she imagined what he would think of her once he took a good look at her record and found out she was an academy washout. From what she had heard, Kirk had more good luck than any nine cats.

She began to review the reports, inventories, and manifests on the disks piled before her. She guessed this might be a kind of test; or maybe the captain was the type who felt there was no better orientation than a "sink or swim" approach. Maybe she should be flattered that Kirk took it for granted that she could make sense of this mess unguided. She frowned as she quickly paged through the inventory on the screen. Nothing matched up. It looked to her as if someone was using boilerplate for the records and then jiggling the numbers at random so no one would notice that what was being reported from month to month didn't vary in the way it should with the various missions. If what she suspected was true, that could cause serious shortfalls in supplies later on.

It wasn't something she'd expect the captain to notice. He struck her as the impatient sort, and this wasn't the kind of thing he focused on everyday. He probably loathed what was still in this day and age called "paperwork," and he would have probably signed off on this and trusted his subordinates to get it right. She had looked and found similar past reports on the computer signed off by Kirk these past few eventful months. When she checked the last few reports signed off by Pike, they seemed fine. Her predecessor, Yeoman Smith, hadn't noticed anything wrong, apparently. Suddenly Rand felt unsure. Surely Smith and Commander Mitchell between them would have caught this? She went over the reports again, working carefully with the computer. No, there was no mistake.

"Computer who is the records officer on the _Enterprise_?"

"Working...Finney, Benjamin A., Lieutenant Commander."

"Please locate Mr. Finney and patch him through here." Her mother had always had a caustic comment about her predilection for saying "please" and "thank you" to machines. But she swore that these computers were so smart they had real personalities and seemed to respond better if you were polite. _Works on people too, Mom_.

"Captain, this is Finney." The computer would have alerted him that she was calling from Kirk's quarters. Rand was taken aback by Finney's tone, which seemed slightly cooler than fit the proper respect Finney owed his captain.

"No, this is Yeoman Rand. I was going over the quarterly reports, and I found what look like discrepancies."

"Yes, Yeoman," Finney replied, emphasizing her title. Rand was usually diffident with superior officers. But the utter incompetence or indifference that had produced this work, together with the knowledge she'd have to work closely with Finney, put steel into her voice.

"Yes—the captain's own yeoman," she said, carefully spacing out the words and putting her own stress on "captain." "I'll take it up with Captain Kirk directly if you prefer, but I thought you might appreciate a heads up and a chance to remedy" —her voice grew ironic— "this oversight."

For a long time there was silence at the other end of the connection. "I'll get to work on it right away."

"And you'll have it ready?"

"By the end of beta shift."

"Thank you sir," she said, coolly snapping off the com link without waiting for a reply.

She was startled by the klaxon of a red alert. Rand felt the familiar clenching of her stomach—not from fear after many such experiences, but from frustration that events would be so far outside her control. Well, if she had wanted to move events rather than have them happen to her, she should have stuck it out at the academy. She wanted to be out of the way if the captain came back. She grabbed the disks. She'd finish the reports in her own quarters—after she stopped off at the rec room to grab some brunch. Besides, that was always a good place to find out what was happening and get a sense of how the crew felt about it, even if the room would be mostly deserted under a red alert. It's not as if she was essential personnel under an emergency situation with somewhere to go and something to do. The degree of confidence she felt from the crew at such a time would tell her volumes about her new boss and her chances of surviving her posting here.

v v v

Rand stretched and looked around her. Even in the midst of all that was happening, she luxuriated in the extravagance of having her own private quarters. She had worked through almost the entire eighteen hours they had been stuck here in space by the mysterious cube. Rand found that when she had something to work on she felt less anxious, and she wanted to bring herself up to speed as quickly as she could. Besides, she was too keyed up to sleep.

She had just finished untangling the mess Kirk had handed her. Finney had acted as if she was crazy when she had come to pick up the promised corrections. He had obviously expected her to be too flustered by the emergency to remember. She had refused to leave and had insisted on looking through the reports and working beside Finney until she was satisfied with the results.

Rand considered telling Kirk about Finney when she had the chance, but thought better of it. Finney outranked her, and she had yet to gain the captain's trust. She was the one who was new here. Nor did she want to go whining to him and make him think she couldn't fight her own battles. In any case, she'd alerted Finney, and he had no doubt already covered his tracks. She had no real evidence of malice or corruption on his part. She'd have to wait and watch Finney carefully.

Kirk seemed to have forgotten her existence. In all this time, the captain hadn't asked for her once, not even to bring coffee up to the briefing room or bridge. Well, the buoy had just been destroyed and the ship had finally stood down from red alert.

She smiled when she thought about the conversation she had with Dr. McCoy when she'd run down to the commissary for a bite to eat. "Now, don't let that boy fool you," he'd said. "It doesn't take too long on this ship to learn Jimboy needs some serious lookin' after, because I can tell you otherwise the man will not take care of himself until one day he just drops. You watch him for me." He had then winked at her. She had smiled at hearing Kirk referred to as a "boy" and had felt warmed and relieved by the obvious affection for the captain in McCoy's voice.

In all their voices. She remembered her first day on the ship. Riley had flirted with her outrageously from the start, kissing her hand and saying that surely her real name was Helen—Helen of Troy—and making her break into a peal of giggles. Sulu had stepped in and gallantly asked if she needed rescuing, and Riley had mockingly challenged him to a duel. Uhura had broken into a grin and smiled over at her as if to say, Well, it's your turn now. Scotty, the engineer, had almost shyly come over to make her acquaintance. Even Spock had gravely introduced himself.

The ship had a good "feel" that was so different from the _Starfarer_ and the _Eaton_ that she was astonished. Was this the way it was on all starships? Kirk, who was her special charge, had been the last of the command crew she had met and now she knew why. He must have been quietly checking to find out how this kind of "mess-up" in personnel assignments could happen. She felt her throat tighten at the thought that she could lose her berth on the _Enterprise_. Well, for now, at least, it was her job to take care of Kirk and damn if she wasn't going to try. She checked the computer for his diet card and found out it had been more than a day since he had eaten. She had a sinking feeling that McCoy was right and that trying to get Kirk to acknowledge such mundane human needs as sleep and food might be her biggest challenge. With the emergency over, he would probably be heading for his quarters. Now was as good a time as any to play mother hen. She hoped McCoy had warned him he'd be on rabbit food.

v v v

McCoy hadn't warned him. When she laid out his meal, Kirk had snapped at her not to "hover" over him and seemed affronted by the salad she had brought. She was exasperated because she felt it wasn't her manner that he resented but being taken care of—in fact, that she had even noticed he needed it. Well, she'd worked for far worse and at least he was self-sufficient enough to take care of himself and not expect her to be at his beck and call like Captain Marcy. She did hope they would eventually become more at ease with each other.

If they survived.

She thought she had come to terms with her fear of the unknown, with the fact that a few feet of durasteel separated her from a void so vast her mind couldn't encompass it. And then she heard Balok tell the entire crew they had "ten Earth units known as minutes" to make peace with their maker. She had never felt more alone and so she had never been more afraid.

But then she learned why Kirk was a starship captain. When he spoke his voice was so calm, so reasonable, and so sure that suddenly she could feel her entire body relax and she could breathe again. And those ten minutes passed—and they were still alive. Suddenly she couldn't stand to just stay in her room; she wanted to be on the bridge, and she tried to think of an excuse that would take her there. Well, the power had been out in the galley for hours. She already knew the captain was a caffeine fiend. She took out the phaser issued to her. She knew one way to make beverages nice and hot...

McCoy was appreciative, anyway. And when she had told him how she had managed to provide hot coffee, Kirk had looked at her with surprise. She smiled graciously and thought _Yes, Captain—I have a brain. Try me_.

v v v

That night, Kirk returned to his quarters and was surprised to find Rand still working at his desk.

"Yeoman Rand. I'm sorry for snapping at you earlier." Kirk saw her shock at the apology and wondered how long it had been since someone who outranked her had thought to apologize for anything.

"That's quite all right, sir. Is the work satisfactory?"

Kirk looked down at the screen and paged through the report. Even with just a cursory look he could tell that Rand had done a great job—far beyond what he had expected or had asked. She had certainly been cool and collected on the bridge, too. Far calmer than Bailey, really. He thought with astonishment that she was a keeper. He was delighted when people surprised him this way, and was looking forward to seeing just how far she could stretch. He smiled at her and there was warmth and approval in his voice. "You'll do. Welcome to the _Enterprise_ team, Miss Rand."

**The End.**


End file.
